something, SOMETHING (I Can't Remember)
by DocumenteKaze232111
Summary: It doesn't matter whether you are an aspiring Forensic Scientist, or a glimmerous, rockstar-ing Prosecutor. It seems that, in the end, "something" will always become "something". Rated T for language, Klavier G.\Ema S., (Klema-Centric.) Inspired by five "somethings" and a close friend of mine. Part Two of Five currently posted.
1. A Peculiar Little Something

**Author's Note**

_This Fanfiction is dedicated to a friend of mine, who is both a confidante and a conspirator-in-mischief to me. The idea came about in a lighthearted conversation that we shared during a school time lunch. My friend was trying to remember the name of a Fanfiction I was telling her about, and she said the following: "It's something... Something... Gah! I can't remember!" She inspired me to write this one-shot, and now I present it to you, my lovely readers. Hopefully, it will remind each and every one of you that everyone, yourself and "everything" else, is "something". This Fanfiction features heavy Ema S./Klavier G. (Klema-centric!) It will also feature varying scenarios and moods depending on the heading before it. The styles of the writings will very vastly from part to part, so follow each dabble closely. Each is typically unrelated to the last. Rated T for language. All definitions of the word 'something' were taken with much thanks and respect from everybody's favorite online source. To end a fabulously long Author's note, __I am currently looking for a BETA whom would be interested in helping me with a rather long and unique Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney Fanfiction, centering around one Klavier Gavin. Co-author credit will absolutely be given. Please send PMs if interested for more information.I would like to begin at once- so first come, first serve!_

**Keep Reading, Writing, and Reviewing,**

**Serah**

_**something, SOMETHING (That I Can't Remember)**_

**Something** (sum•thing)

Pronoun(1) : **Some thing; a certain undetermined, unidentified thing.**

_A Peculiar Little Something_

It was a peculiar noise that drove Detective Ema Skye to investigate the office of Prosecutor Klavier Gavin.

Normally, she would not bother checking up on the glimmerous fop, but really, she had nothing to do at the end of her working day- her paperwork was finished, her various Snackoos packs were empty, and the bad guy has gotten when he deserved.

Ema managed to utter a weak chuckle.

_ All in a day's work... _

Additionally, the noises had been bothering her for quite a while now. She had put it out of her mind until this moment, hoping someone would do the thing themselves, but it seemed that they were more focusing more on themselves and less on her boss. He had been in there all afternoon, crashing about his office like some madman on a rampage. She felt almost obligated to do the task no one else had wanted to do- so Ema, the caring woman she is, opened the door.

_One messy room?_ Check one.

_One glimmerous fop?_ Check two.

_One very uncomfortable Detective?_ Check three.

The fop is crazy.

...Speaking of glimmerous fops, what the _Hell_ was Klavier Gavin _doing_ ?

The man was surrounded by a sea (or perhaps flood?) of files, envelopes, manila envelopes, binders, loose papers, crumpled papers of every which color, stereos, CDs, acoustics guitars, electric guitars, guitar picks, photographs, small books, large books, magazines, newspapers, coffee mugs, thermoses, a week old sandwich- you name it, it was probably there, splashed against the Prosecutor's office floor so thickly Ema could not see the carpet.

The Prosecutor's himself was not turned toward her as he shoved a bunch of heavy files to the floor, splashing more papers to the red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and white sea below him.

She asked him the natural question. "What are you doing?"

His reply was distracted and rather distant. "I am looking for something."

Typical answer from the typical glimmerous fop.

"So you decided to destroy your office in the process of looking for that 'something', Gavin?" She asked, somewhat humorously and somewhat icily at the same time. "The janitor is going to love the gift." That last statement was practically oozing venom.

The Prosecutor's Building was blessed with a lovely (and old, but lovely all the same) janitor, who Ema was quite familiar with. The elderly janitor had been around in her sister's two years of being Chief Prosecutor, too, a testament to his loyal services.

_To think that Gavin would leave such a mess to such a good person! _

_ The glimmerous fop could be such a-_

"I will be cleaning my own office, Liebe." Klavier interrupted her angry thoughts, calmly for someone who knew when he was being insulted. Ema blinked once in surprise, but Klavier ignored that. A strange sound echoed through the cluttered office. "Herr Cartwright knows not to touch my office. Besides, I will be staying late tonight anyway."

_Klavier Gavin knew the janitor's name. _

Why did Ema not know the great janitor's name?

_Whoops._

As Ema noted both her chagrin and her mistaken judgement of the not-so-jerkish Prosecutor, she adverted her eyes from his back and stared at the paper-covered carpet instead.

_God, why did she feel so guilty? _

_It was just Klavier._

Meanwhile, the Prosecutor straightened out and turned around.

"_Hallo_, Detective Skye."

Formal.

_Way, way too formal. _

Ema's eyes instantly jumped to Klavier, and she could have gasped in surprise- had she not been afraid of startling the man.

The man looked tired- no, not tired, he looked exhausted. Ema had heard rumors that he looked bad, but nobody had bothered to mention just _how_ bad. His hair was stringy, and it had lost its gold-like luster. His impossibly blue eyes were just slightly darkened from their normal humor, as if all the joy had been sucked out of him. His skin was not tanned, but pale. His clothes were as casual as ever- blue jeans and a black shirt. His normal violet jacket had somehow gotten caught on the fan above their heads. He wore a pair of violet sunglasses lazily on the top of his head.

"You look like Hell." She told him, not bothering to hide the worry in her voice. She was worried about her very worrying boss. Everyone was.

_Except, apparently, no one had bothered to tell him that directly._

As these throughts swirled around her head, "You, Liebe, cannot be put into that catagory."

Ema did not smile. She rarely smiled at his flirtations- usually, she just pounded the fop with her Snackoos. This particular evening, however, she did not have any handy. Besides, Klavier looked like any hit would shatter him.

"Thanks, fop," She sighed, looking around the room and surveying the mess. He was going to be awake all night, cleaning this up. Then again, the Prosecutor probably had not slept a whole night for the past month, judging from the shadows under his eyes...

_Realizing your elder brother was a psychopath could keep you awake for a while._

"What are you looking for, anyway, Gavin?"

"My sunglasses."

Ema glanced at the sunglasses perched on the Prosecutor's head. "Sunglasses, huh?"

"_Ja, meine Sonnenbrille_. I swear, they are around here somewhere. I placed them on my desk, I leave for a meeting, I come back an hour later, and poof! They are _vorbei_- gone. Those sunglasses were a gift from a close friend. I would feel terribly guilty if I lost them." As he explained his 'predicament', he continued his search by stooping to his knees and opened his desk drawers, shifting through whatever mess he had stored away in there.

"Hey, fop?" At his distracted grunt of an acknowledgement, she continued, more out of concern than curiosity, "Have you been sleeping okay?"

"_Nein_, I have not. Is it that obvious?"

He sounded like he was chuckling from behind his desk.

Ema snorted in disbelief. His obliviousness and his obvious ignorance that the item he was looking for was sitting literally right on top of his head was so idiotic...and yet, so real. It kind of made her sad. She tried to lighten the mood.

"It's so obvious, you might have gotten away with it, Gavin."

Klavier did not laugh.

Ema took a deep breath before questioning, "How about eating? Have you been eating okay?"

The Prosecutor did not answer right away, poking his head out from under his desk. His sunglasses (to Ema) stood out on the top of his head like a gigantic purple monster. "Is that a proposal for dinner, Liebe? Unfortunately," He added when Ema's eyebrows rose, "I cannot take you up on that offer, as nice as it sounds. I have work to do, after I find my sunglasses."

_Klavier Gavin had declined (his own) offer for dinner._

_ What the actual fuck?_

"One last question. Have you looked in a mirror?"

"Nein, why?"

Ema wordlessly pointed to the sunglasses on top of the Prosecutor's head. His right hand immediately flew to his head, and his expression went from confused to surprised before crumpling to a more completely humiliated one as he brought the missing sunglasses down to look at them.

"Ah." Even from his quiet exclamation, Ema could tell, by the bright, embarrassed color of his face and the expression, that he was thoroughly ashamed of himself.

_Too ashamed._

Ema suddenly felt a great surge of sympathy for the Prosecutor. The way she saw it, he was trapped, and she was one one who had trapped him, without even realizing it. She decided to ease up on the guy- he obviously needed it. She answered his ashamed assessment in a voice devoid of judgement, or even humor.

She simply agreed. "Yeah."

He said nothing more, staring at the sunglasses at his hand. He looked twenty years younger- a child who had been reprimanded for some terrible act. It was the expression of some guilty conscience yet to be released.

_ Yet, he had nothing to confess._

"So, um..." Ema began awkwardly, trying to distract the obviously distressed Prosecutor (and trying to distract herself from those sad thoughts, "Who gave them to you, anyway? They're very...uh, you. Foppish, I mean." She offered him a tiny smile. "They scream rock-star."

Even before the last sentence registered in her mind, she winced.

Klavier Gavin was not a rock-star- at least, a current one. Not anymore- he had announced the disbandment of his extremely popular band, the Gavinners, about a week ago. That had earned the tired man even more publicity, even though he had already been swamped with reporters because of the Misham trial. Klavier did not, however, react to her statement at all. In fact, he smiled a very faded, washed-up smile, one that echoed and reminded Ema of happier times.

"These sunglasses were given to me as a gift, years and years ago, by a close friend. She...she thought they would bring me good luck."

Ema couldn't help it. "Looks like her good luck charm has worn off."

"Very much so." He agreed with her softly, easily. Her heart sank. This was not Klavier Gavin. It was a ghost- no, a shell of the man. A cheerless, hopeless shell. She suddenly hated everything- Kristoph Gavin, for murdering two men and hurting his younger brother; the reporters, for watching Klavier's every move and shoving thoughtless words into his mouth; their co-workers, for not caring.

_It was just Klavier. after all._

She hated herself, for not noticing him before now. She hated herself for, like everyone else, dismissing him. "I'm sorry." The words were out before she could stop herself. She was apologizing. Ema Skye was apologizing for something- for something she did not do or even think was possible- she was apologizing. Truly a landmark moment.

"You do not have to be. It is, after all," He adverted his sad, impossibly blue eyes, gesturing to the mess waiting underneath him, "My mess to clean up."

Oh, the irony screamed and stung her, right in the heart. He was standing in a mess that he could not have prevented. He was alone, and it occured to Ema, not for the first time that evening, not a soul in the world cared about that. He was hurt, but nobody was there for him. Suddenly, she stooped down decidedly, snatched a folder from the ground before Klavier, and stood up, offering it to the Prosecutor with a strong smile on her expression. "It doesn't have to be."

After only a moment of hesitation, in which he seemed to deliberate with himself, Klavier took the folder from her with amazing gentleness. Something in his thawing, impossibly blue eyes warmed her let her know that her attempts to befriend the tired, lonely Prosecutor had not been ignored- rather, accepted so quietly, it was as if the friendship was always there.

"Danke, _Liebe_." His voice was undeniably shaking, but he was grateful.

It had been a peculiar noise that drove Detective Ema Skye to investigate the office of Prosecutor Klavier Gavin.

_It was a peculiar little something that drove her to stay._

• **:: † :: •**


	2. Unlucky Something, Luckily Something

**Author's Note:**

_Welcome to the second installation! Again, this Fanfiction is lovingly dedicated to a friend of mine, who gave me the idea all by herself. Also, I hope you are feeling well, my friend! I heard rumors that you were feeling unwell. To my other readers, I would like to restate something that I announced in the last chapter of this well-received Fanfiction of mine: I am looking for people willing to help me with a never-before-seen story that is sure to be a very interesting read to any and all readers. If you are interested, please send me a PM post-haste. Lastly, remember that this Fanfiction will give you an insight in many, many different types of my personal writing technique. Please enjoy the new chapter!_

**Keep Reading, Writing and Reviewing,**

**Serah**

_**something, SOMETHING (That I Can't Remember)**_

**Something **(sum•thing)

**Pronoun(2)** : An additional amount, as in cents or minutes, that is unknown, unspecified, or forgotten.

_An Unlucky Something, and Luckily A Something_

Ema Skye was having a terrible day, and it was barely **10 : 39 a.m.**

First, her alarm clock went of a full hour early, waking her up at exactly 6 : 30 a.m. This was a problem because, once she is awake, she has an extremely hard time falling back asleep (stupid over-active brain and stupid over-active thoughts.)

Then, after failing to convince herself to try to go back to sleep, she had to take a freezing cold shower because her apartment leaser was a lazy idiot who would not fix the water-heater even if she had the money necessary to even threaten to sue him.

After almost catching hypothermia, she then spilled coffee all over her favorite white laboratory coat. Coffee is hard as all hell to get out of any article of clothing, especially anything white. So now, she was forced to go without the coat- something way out of her comfort zone.

Then, she managed to lose her truck keys (her elder sister, Lana, had gifted their parents' 1999 Ford to her after she had, however grudgingly, earned her Detective's badge.) How she managed to do that, she had no idea- her apartment consisted of a small kitchen, a tiny 'master' bedroom, a microscopic living room, and an uncomfortably stall-like (and cold-watered) restroom.

And, after going through all of that, she cannot find her goddamn glasses!

The time, **10 : 01 a.m.**, forced her out her rickety apartment door under the irritating understanding that she was going to be late. Normally, that would not bother her, but considering her rotten luck that morning, her glimmerous fop of a boss, Klavier Gavin, was probably actually going to show up at work on time (or, God forbid, early!) for once in his foppish life.

Rumor had it that the rock-god had an extremely hypocritical attitude towards any poor, unfortunate late-comer Detective under his supervision.

That said, when Ema arrived at the Prosecutor's Office at **10 : 11 a.m.**, already eleven minutes late, she was completely unsurprised to find that an accident had occurred right down the street, and her co-workers out and about, redirecting any and all traffic two full city blocks from the building.

The accident looked rather severe. Looking through her window as she traveled at a snail's pace towards the designated parking for all staff because of the redirection of traffic, Ema saw a dark red car and a dark blue car, both of which with their hoods ripped to shreds. Broken glass was everywhere, and Ema noticed that, several feet away from the wreck, there was blood on the ground, in all of its scarlet glory.

The two cars had crashed so hard that their respective paints, red and blue, had meshed together and created a stunning, vivid dark violet. There were parts of both machines scattered about the roped-off section of pavement, which was almost the entire city-block long.

It was an unfortunate thing, really.

Ema sighed heavily. She was having a bad morning, to be sure, what with her alarm, her cold shower, her coffee/stained laboratory coat, and her missing pink glasses- but at least she was not the poor souls that had been involved in that horror movie scene.

She hoped, whoever the victims were, had a better time of it for the rest of their perfectly horrible day.

She realized that,whilst she rushed into the Prosecutor's building, hoping to salvage some of her perfect attendance record from the shameful barrel of tardiness, had her alarm not awoken her early from her sleep, she might have been involved in that accident. It was **10 : 57 a.m.**

How ironic.

• • •

As Ema Skye entered the Prosecutor's building almost an hour late for work because of a car wreck, she had no way of knowing that their had been a third vehicle involved the crash, torn literally apart like a piece of paper. Those were the pieces of a machine she had noticed, spread across the street. She also could not have known that the owner of that third vehicle had been one glimmerous fop and rock-god, Klavier Gavin, and that he had very luckily (and narrowly) escaped a rather graphic, gruesome death.

As it were, he left the crash site with just a few million scratches on every which part on his body one could think of, the not- so-proud owner of a ruined, dark violet motorcycle whose future was doomed to the top of a scrap metal heap, and the quite sure, altogether nasty feeling that he would be seeing himself on the news that evening, thanks to the irritating wonders of photographic technology.

He could have been killed- killed! Death's hand had literally been laying on his shoulder- and it is not every day one literally gets to see his twenty-seven years of life flash before his eyes. But still, he had been impossibly lucky. Had he not done something incredibly stupid, something completely reckless for the sake of looking 'cool', even the best morticians in the world would have had trouble identifying his body, as he would have literally been squished between two speeding cars when everything was said and done.

Kids, do not try this at home; Klavier Gavin had NOT been wearing his helmet.

Although, it had been very lucky he had decided not to wear it. Had he been wearing the violet mask, he would not have seen the red car at the corner of his right eye vision, and the blue car at the corner of his left eye vision. Somehow, both drivers of both those cars had run the light the moment Klavier had gone to cross the intersection when his red light switched to green. One driver had been a teenager who had been messaging his mother, and the other some corporate leader who had been running late for some important meeting.

Klavier had simply needed to go into the office a bit early for a change.

Although both of the other victims had suffered major injuries (nothing that a lot of time and many, many hospital bills would not fix, though) Klavier had only a few scrapes and bruise as evidence of his lucky morning.

Now that the lucky man had time to think about that, as he entered the Prosecutor's building at **10 : 57 a.m.**, it was all been incredibly, impossibly ironic.

• :: † :: •

Ema Skye felt as if she could scream at the top of her lungs for hours and hours, and be damned whatever her elder sister had once told her about her voice giving out when she was older. As it was, she had already shouted her voice to the point of hoarseness minutes before, venting out her frustration at her bad morning on the unfortunate man slowly getting to his feet.

She kind of felt bad for her reaction, though- Klavier Gavin had surely not meant to lose his footing at the top of the stairs. Surely he had not meant to fall and basically bulldoze the both of them to the bottom of the two flights they had climbed.

But she had lost her temper with him, shouted at him for what must have been five minutes, until the Chief Prosecutor (some balding old man who had replaced her brilliant elder sister) had been summoned. After somewhat calming down the raging Detective to the best of his ability, he had dragged a shocked, wordless Klavier into his office at the top floor of the building, and nobody had seen head or tail (or heard music from) the glimmerous Prosecutor since.

And then some random woman with caramel hair and silver eyes tells her that Klavier had been involved in the accident earlier that morning, that he had actually been injured. Putting two and two together, Ema realized that Klavier had actually tripped because he had been hurt.

Wow. Just- wow.

The time was **1 : 28 p.m.**, and now, confined in her office by an irritable, even balder Head Detective with a smoking problem, Ema found herself with ample paperwork to keep her busy for the next few hours, and even more time to think about just how she was going to make it up to the Prosecutor.

Yes, Ema was going to make it up to him. She was not going to just "let it go", like some had suggested to her when she explained the situation to them. That would be wrong on so many levels, and Klavier did not deserve even more bad treatment from her. Sure, he was a glimmerous fop, and by all accounts, but seriously, he had almost been killed- and surely that experience was worse than not wearing her laboratory coat to work that morning, or losing her favorite pair of pink glasses that could, with the right tools, see blood-splatter?

The only problems the Detective faced now was (a) finding the man in question, (b) apologizing to him, and (c) finding out exactly what she could do for him that would allow him to forgive her for her earlier horrid treatment of him.

She would find a way, though. Eventually.

• • •

It was **9 : 59 p.m.**, and he was tired.

He was tired of the Prosecutor's building, with its drab decorations and even blander inhabitants. He was tired of the people he surrounded himself around on a daily basis- and why did he do that? He could not even answer that anymore; not with that screaming doubt clouding his mind on own worth in the building. He was tired of feeling feelings. He was tired of- well, anything, really. Just fill in the blank like some old brainteaser.

It was 10 : 00 p.m., and Klavier Gavin was exhausted.

Today was just another spectacular reason why he should leave- just pack his guitars up and go- but for whatever reason, Klavier could not bring himself to give his badge to the Chief Prosecutor. As it was, he had hung his head and took the verbal berating the angry, bald man gave him, and took his leave wordlessly when the Chief Prosecutor ordered him to get out of his sight.

It was like he was ten years old again, living in his father's house... But then, that was neither here nor there.

What was here, though, were the cold nights promised by winter, and as Klavier walked home in the chilly air, some miles off from the Prosecutor's building, he found himself appreciating the fact that he owned more than one mode of transportation.

For now, though, he walked, and Klavier found that he did not at all regret his choice to not call for a taxi. Even though his injuries from the accident(s) this morning burned and smarted from the exercise, he found that it actually felt good to let all those negative energies out. He let his thoughts wander, and he found himself all the calmer for it, staring at the lights the city had to offer. It was as if the chilly air had some sort of healing power to it- and it refreshed him; it healed him.

There was a song in that somewhere...

As he quickly crossed an empty street (after looking both ways, of course- he had enough of violating the street laws early that morning) he thought back on the second accident that occurred inside the Prosecutor's building.

Klavier had to hand it to the young Detective- Ema Skye certainly was one of a kind- she had proved that millions of times before now, but really, to have the guts to yell at her boss in front of a bunch of their co-workers for what seemed like an hour?

Wow. Just- wow. That woman...

"Klavier?"

The Prosecutor spun on his heel, and there she was, standing just a few feet away from him, as if summoned by his thoughts alone- Detective Ema Skye.

The time was **10 : 22 p.m.**

• :: † :: •

"Fräulein Skye," Klavier Gavin blurted in surprise, before seeing her amused (and slightly confused) expression and composing himself and continuing, a bit more calmly, "What are you doing here?"

Ema continued to wear that same amused smile as she retorted, almost gently, "You know, I could ask you the very same thing, fop."

Considering that the two of them were standing just a foot or so in front of the other, under the light of a street-lamp and surrounded by darkness, Klavier conceded that the fair Detective made a very good point- so valid, in fact, that he found himself chuckling.

"In that case, Fräulein Skye," He chuckled, "I will tell you what I am doing if you tell me what you are doing." He bargained with her playfully, without a hint of nervousness, even though he fully expected the woman to shriek at him again, this time demanding him to mind his own business.

She did nothing of the sort.

Instead, she blushed very faintly.

"I already know where you're going."

Klavier rose a thin, golden eyebrow. "Do you now? How do you know something like- ?"

"You're going home," Ema interrupted him in that same gentle voice from before, offering him an apologetic smile when he blinked in surprise, "And I was looking for you. I got off late from the Police Department, then I went to the Prosecutor's building to find you, but someone from the Parole Agency told me you'd already left. So I asked where, and he told me you'd be heading home."

"I understand all that," Klavier replied, surprise still lingering in his expression, "But why were you looking for me in the first place?"

"To- well, a bunch of reasons," Ema corrected herself hastily, causing Klavier to raise his eyebrows still further, "But I guess I'll start with the simplest one and go from there."

"Which is...?"

Ema shrugged nonchalantly, though her cheeks were still burning pink. "To offer you a ride home."

Klavier blinked.

This was new.

"I cannot say that understand that particular piece of information," He finally told her simply. His impossibly blue eyes were filled with confusion. "Why would you offer me a ride home?"

"Because you need it- you're hurt," She added, when he opened his mouth to respond the negative. He slowly closed his mouth, and she smiled slightly more, lighting up her expression like a light-bulb.

"Besides, I- I wanted to talk to you, anyway..."

"You wanted to talk to me."

Ema looked at her superior with a single eyebrow risen. "What are you, some kind of parrot?"

The Prosecutor rose a critical, appraising eyebrow of his own. "I apologize, Liebe, but I find it rather difficult to believe you would wish to hold any conversation, civil or otherwise, with me, after the events of early this morning."

Klavier was not a petty man. He tried not to hold grudges- and if he could manage to not hold one against his former best friend, Daryan Cresend, who had murdered a man, or against his elder brother, Kristoph, who had done a lot more than murder two men, then surely he could manage to not hold a grudge against Ema Skye for her actions against him earlier that day.

Right?

Right.

Ema jolted him out of his thoughtful reflections with two, gently-spoken words. "I'm sorry."

Klavier blinked. An apology. The little spitfire of a woman whose antics he had come to enjoy, the Detective who would sooner spit on him than shake his hand- she was apologizing to him.

"I'm sorry," She repeated again when he did not answer, continuing to speak in that same soft tone of voice. "I had a really bad morning- haven't you noticed that I'm not wearing my pink glasses or my laboratory coat today? Those were the byproducts of my day. Plus, I was late and sure I was about to be docked pay for- "

"Do I look that cruel of a man to you?" Klavier found himself laughing- not at her, but at this entire situation. The entire day had been filled with unlucky surprises. Now, hearing this gentle apology, he felt as if it was all melting away. "Please, Liebe, I do not dock pay for tardiness."

Ema smiled at him. "Thanks- for not hating me for this morning, I mean.. Seriously- you're...not bad. For a fop, anyway," She amended hastily as Klavier continued to chuckle.

"I did not take it personally, Fräulein Skye." He admitted, "I just chalked it up to my terrible luck today. I hope you were not injured in the fall, were you?" When Ema shook her head in the negative, he sighed in relief. "I am glad to hear that. I knew I should have taken the elevator..."

"You probably should have," Ema agreed slowly, before questioning, "You weren't too badly hurt in that accident, were you? I had to bypass all that- it looked bad. Really, really bad."

"Nein, just a few scratches. I was very, very lucky that I lived- some stroke of incredible luck."

Ema nodded, somewhat thoughtfully. She rubbed the back of her neck, as though she were nervous about something. "Still though, " She said after a short pause, "I would've called it a day and went back home, if I went through something like that."

"It crossed my mind, but in all honesty, I was fine. I am fine." He chuckled again, and Ema laughed along with him. He continued, "I will, however, miss my hog. It was a gift- custom made and everything."

"Who gave it to you?"

Klavier winked at her. "One who was like a father to me. I cannot tell you his name," He added, suddenly stern at Ema's curious expression. He decided to explain himself after a few moments pause. "He would dislike the media attention he would receive if I ever revealed him. As a favor to him, I keep his name to myself."

"Oh." Ema was surprised by the thought of the ex-musician going such lengths to protect someone. She found herself warming up to the man, after almost four years of knowing him. "That's nice of you."

"He appreciates the gesture," Klavier waved off her compliment with a shrug of his shoulders.

At that moment, a chilly wind blew past. Both Ema and Klavier hid a shiver. They smiled knowingly at each other as the sudden gust passed.

"So, fop," Ema began conversationally, "How about that ride?

"I would be honored to accept it, Fräulein Skye."

• • •

It was **11 : 59 p.m.**, and Ema Skye was somehow unsurprised when Klavier Gavin found her pink glasses on the seat of his ride home.

• :: † :: •


End file.
